


Wind Me Tighter Than a Wire

by sequence_fairy, uneventfulhouses



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Choking, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, We have now officially broken in the office couch, no one tell Henry Cavill about this please, you all can thank us later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22724833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequence_fairy/pseuds/sequence_fairy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/uneventfulhouses/pseuds/uneventfulhouses
Summary: “I just think,” Ryan says at lunch over their shared table, “that I kinda want him to fucking ruin me, you know?”Shane accidentally tries to inhale his La Croix. Ryan stands quickly to help him as he chokes, but Shane waves him off, setting the can down with shaking fingers.“You okay, man?” Ryan asks, all solicitous. Like he wasn’t the cause of Shane nearly drowning in far too expensive, grapefruit flavoured sparkling water.“Yeah,” Shane answers, hoarse. He feels faint and there’s a roaring in his ears that he attributes to the momentary loss of the ability to breathe.Or: Ryan’s like, “I’m just aesthetically attracted to some men in particular,” and “I don’t want to do anything about it,” and “alright, maybe, sometimes, I think about getting lovingly railed by Henry Cavill while I jerk off but who doesn’t?” and Shane is maybe losing his mind about it.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 53
Kudos: 578





	Wind Me Tighter Than a Wire

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Fucking Valentine's Day! This fic is brought to you by my nearly getting caught sending Yesi filthy headcanons via DM on discord while I was at work and the pair of us realising that sometimes, what happens in DMs doesn't have to stay in the DMs and then we made a smut baby and now we are bringing her into the world.
> 
> Thanks a million to [Ember](http://emberglows.tumblr.com) for the beta.

It’s a very normal, routine workday in the office. 

Ryan’s talking about Henry Cavill again and Shane’s ignoring him, as usual, as he balances himself on the back legs of his desk chair. Ryan’s fantasies are mostly white noise these days. Ryan talks about Cavill’s biceps like other men talk about touchdown passes. Sometimes, Ryan talks about Cavill like he talks about down-to-the-buzzer three-pointers. Shane’s heard it all, and to be honest, he’s a little over it.

“Sometimes a guy just wants to get fucked, you know?” Ryan’s saying when Shane tunes back in. Ryan keeps going. “Like, really taken apart.” 

Shane drops heavily back down onto all four feet of his chair. “Uh, what?” 

Ryan winks at him, terribly. It’s really bad. It should not do that funny thing to Shane’s stomach. Except that it does. Shane spends the rest of the work day in a strange mix of turned on and ashamed of himself for being turned on. It’s decidedly not his favourite combination.

===

“I just think,” Ryan says a few weeks later at lunch over their shared table, “that I kinda want him to fucking ruin me, you know?” 

Shane accidentally tries to inhale his La Croix. Ryan stands quickly to help him as he chokes, but Shane waves him off, setting the can down with shaking fingers. 

“You okay, man?” Ryan asks, all solicitous. Like he wasn’t the cause of Shane nearly drowning in far too expensive, grapefruit flavoured sparkling water.

“Yeah,” Shane answers, hoarse. He feels faint and there’s a roaring in his ears that he attributes to the momentary loss of the ability to breathe. 

Ryan taps the table decisively, and then gathers his stuff and walks back to their desk.

Determinedly not watching him go, Shane thinks maybe Ryan is playing some kind of weird game of chicken that he hasn’t let Shane in on. Hopefully, Ryan will clue him in eventually.

===

Except it keeps happening, more and more, and soon Shane is starting to realise he is learning more about Ryan than he has ever wanted to know. Ryan, who up until three days ago, Shane would have said is, like, razor’s edge straight, seems to have some incredibly detailed fantasies about how he wants to be fucked by a specific man. About how _anyone_ should want to be fucked by that man. 

It’s doing a number on Shane. He’s had more boners in the last three weeks than he’s had since highschool. He feels vaguely accomplished to have produced that many; being over thirty has certainly slowed some things down in that department. It’s nice to know little Shane is still up to the challenge.

He both wants it to stop and for Ryan to never quit. 

He hates it a little bit, especially when his longer showers turn into jerk-off sessions and it stops being his usual run of pretty faces and starts being specifically Ryan, and more specifically Ryan’s little fantasies with Shane inserted into the starring role. It hurts then, too, because Ryan clearly has a type – hunky movie star – and Shane is not any of that. 

Shane’s alright, he knows. Not entirely unattractive or unloveable. He’s had his fair share of partners. Everyone has left satisfied. But this feels a little like Shane’s intruding in on something private of Ryan’s, a little like he’s using Ryan’s fantasies to fuel his own. Because of course, that’s all these are to Ryan. They’re just fantasies, nothing more. 

He decides, one night after coming so hard he hits himself in the chin while lying down, that this has to stop. Because now he’s thinking about bending Ryan over the couch in the Watcher office, thinking about Ryan’s hands gripping the back of the couch, thinking about Ryan’s skin and the curve of Ryan’s smile in the semi-darkness. Henry Cavill has decidedly stopped appearing in any capacity.

Shane tells himself to stop and that he’s not an addict, he can stop whenever he wants. And it’s fine. Totally fine. 

It continues to be fine right up until it isn’t. 

===

It’s late. Steven and the staff have gone home hours ago, and Shane and Ryan are putting the finishing touches on an episode coming up in a couple of weeks when Ryan starts talking again. He’s muttering at first, and Shane thinks he’s just complaining about the work or the hour or missing something on TV, but then Shane hears Ryan say ‘Henry’ and he has, abruptly, had enough. 

“Can you stop talking about all these men you want to _fuck,”_ Shane says, frustration spilling out into the harsh cut-off of the curse. “Please,” he adds as an afterthought. 

Ryan blinks at him. Shane considers that perhaps he has been a little harsh for a first request to stop. Ryan hasn’t been privy to the last however long of the back and forth Shane’s been having with himself in his own brain.

“I don’t want to fuck any men, jeez, Shane.”

“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” Shane drawls, sarcasm heavy in his tone. “You just want to _be_ fucked.” 

Ryan’s mouth drops open before he can stop it. He closes it with a snap of his teeth. There’s something heated in his gaze when he meets Shane’s eyes, but underneath, there’s a flash of hurt. “It’s just shit I’m saying. Can’t a guy find another dude attractive?” 

Shane sighs. Who is he to judge who someone else finds attractive anyway? “Just–can you please have your explicit fantasies about Henry Cavill _not_ out loud around me?” 

Ryan swallows. “I thought–I thought you, of all people, would be chill with this?” 

“I am so chill, the chillest around, man, but I literally can’t take listening to you about this anymore.” 

“I just thought,” Ryan’s backpedaling now. “I thought it’d be okay, ‘cause you’re…” Ryan trails off. 

Shane’s stomach clenches. This is dangerous ground. “I’m what, Ryan?” 

“Like, you’re into guys? I just thought–” Ryan cuts himself off. He sucks in a breath. “I’m sorry, man, I didn’t realise I’d made you uncomfortable. I’ll stop.” 

For a moment Shane considers taking the out. He thinks long and hard about it. About never having this chance again. Instead, he reaches for the arms of Ryan’s chair and turns it so they’re facing each other, and leans into Ryan’s space.

“Do you want to know why I can’t stand hearing you constantly talking about being fucked?”

Ryan’s gaze darts away from Shane’s. “I _am_ sorry for making you uncomfortable,” Ryan says. “I can totally stop. Like, it’s fine.” 

Shane shifts in his seat, resettling. “I wouldn’t say it makes me _uncomfortable,_ per se,” Shane offers. 

Shane has a front row seat while Ryan works out what Shane means. He can almost hear Ryan’s brain whirring as he figures it out. When he does, his eyes widen and he says ‘oh’ under his breath like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. Ryan sits back a little bit. Shane half expects to look up and find a lightbulb burning blindingly bright over Ryan’s head. 

“Yeah,” Shane says, “ _oh_.” He pulls back a little too, because he wants to give Ryan some space to think about it, because his reaction is making Shane think that maybe the ‘oh’ wasn’t the good kind. 

Before he can get too far, Ryan’s hand snaps out and grabs onto the front of Shane’s shirt. 

“Just–” Ryan says, and keeps ahold of Shane. Ryan’s thinking, and thinking hard, shuffling the cards in his brain and fitting in Shane’s body and Shane’s face and his hands and his legs and his– 

“You think about me like that?” Ryan asks, searching Shane’s face with his big beautiful eyes. 

“Well, I mean, I didn’t use to,” Shane says, “but then you started telling me about how you want to be lovingly railed by Henry Cavill, and a man gets ideas.” 

Ryan’s hand flexes around where he’s holding onto Shane’s shirt. He looks down at where he’s holding onto Shane and then back up into Shane’s eyes. “Ideas?” 

Shane lets one eyebrow quirk up. It’s a good thing he’s so fond of this idiot. “Yes, ideas. You think I haven’t been thinking about bending you over the nearest available surface and just giving you exactly what you’ve been whining about for weeks?” 

Ryan flushes. “You have?”

“Ryan, I’ve thought about having you over the back of the couch in this office several times already this week.” 

“The couch,” Ryan says, dreamily. He makes an aborted move to look over his shoulder towards the piece of furniture in question. “You wanna fuck me on the couch? In the office? Where people can just–possibly walk in? Even though it’s kinda late, but you know. The _possibility_.” 

“Does it make you hot, knowing someone could walk in?” Shane leans back in. He watches Ryan’s pupils dilate. “Knowing someone could see you? Knowing they would know you’re being fucked? Knowing they would know how much you want it?” 

Shane’s not usually this forward or this vulgar but something about the way Ryan’s looking at him turns off all the filters in his brain.

“Yeah,” Ryan breathes. “Yeah, yes.” His hand tightens in Shane’s shirt. “I want it. Please?” 

“You’re sure?” Shane asks, but he’s already lifting his hands to Ryan’s shoulders. 

Ryan bites his lip and looks at Shane. He nods. Determined. 

“Lock the door, then,” Shane says. 

Ryan goes to do just that and Shane pushes himself up, wiping the sweat from his palms on his thighs before moving to the couch. 

Ryan’s a little nervous, Shane can tell, but he’s still moving with purpose and there’s a hunger in his face as he makes his way back to where Shane has settled on the couch. Shane wonders if Ryan can see it, when he looks at him, how much Shane wants him. All the want burning hot in his belly, the ache of it in his chest. Ryan shivers under their shared gaze and Shane thinks maybe Ryan knows. 

Ryan comes to rest in front of Shane, looking a little like he’s unsure where Shane wants him. Shane reaches up, pulling him down into his lap. Ryan lands with his knees bent on either side of Shane’s thighs. There’s a breath of a moment where they regard each other, and then Shane drags Ryan in for a bruising kiss. 

It’s all heat from the very beginning. They soak it up from each other. Ryan grabs at Shane’s shoulders, curls his hands around Shane’s neck, his fingers on Shane’s face, like he can’t get enough of Shane’s skin. When the kiss breaks, he’s panting hard. Shane slides down, kissing along the line of his jaw, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses to the column of Ryan’s throat, sucking a bruise into the side of Ryan’s neck. 

Ryan rocks down into Shane’s lap. Shane thrills from the hard press of Ryan’s dick against him. Shane’s been half-hard and change since they first started talking but he gets all the way there without any thought. 

Shane’s hands come up to steady Ryan’s hips, stilling him. “Did I say you could move?” 

Ryan’s breath goes out of him in a woosh. “Uh,” he says, eloquently. 

Shane’s mouth quirks a touch. For a moment they just look at each other, and then Ryan wiggles his hips, an invitation. 

“Are you gonna do something or do I have to beg for it?” 

Ryan’s words send a lance of heat through Shane, and his grip tightens reflexively. “Brat,” he says, soft and fond, and then draws Ryan in for another kiss.

One of Shane’s hands slips across the front of Ryan’s pants, tracing the hard press of him. Ryan bucks up into Shane’s touch. 

Ryan’s fingers spear into Shane’s hair, and he leans into Shane’s neck, groaning low and wanton. It’s just a little touch, nothing to be this worked up about, but if he’s half as keyed up as Shane is, there’s no hope for either of them. 

Shane’s trying, hard, to stay in control for both of them, but Ryan’s so eager and so desperate. He’s panting into Shane’s neck as Shane fumbles with the zip of his jeans and gets a hand inside. The sound Ryan makes at the first touch of Shane’s hand goes right to Shane’s dick. He has to bite back a curse. 

“How do you want this?” Shane manages to ask, because one of them should have some idea of the intended direction. 

“Don’t care,” Ryan mumbles, into Shane’s neck, fucking up into the circle of Shane’s fist. “Just want you.” 

Ryan’s admission draws a low sound from Shane and he ruts up against Ryan, mind racing. There are possibilities here, but they’re limited unless someone has lube in a secret pocket. For all their talk about fucking, Shane’s not sure he’s going to manage to satisfy Ryan’s fantasy unless something drastic changes. 

“Can’t fuck you without lube,” Shane says, into Ryan’s temple. 

Ryan leans back, sucking in a breath. “I’ve got stuff in my bag,” he says. His gaze is clear and guileless.

Shane body jolts from the sudden opening of all the possibilities. He nearly upsets Ryan off his lap in the process. “You little Boy Scout,” he says vaguely awed. “Were you thinking about getting fucked today?” 

Ryan just smiles and gets up, shuffling over to his bag, holding his pants up with a hand at his hips. He has to hike them up a little in order to bend down to rifle through his bag for the lube. Shane watches him from the couch, heavy-lidded and leaned back against the cushions. Shane kicks off his shoes, then shucks off his socks, and eventually Ryan finds the lube and holds it up with a triumphant little wiggle, grinning. He comes back to the couch. 

Shane stands to meet him, adjusting himself as he does. He looks down at Ryan. He could ask the obvious question, but they both know the answer, so he doesn’t. Instead, he takes the bottle from Ryan and pops the cap.

Ryan’s wearing an unsure but game look on his face. It’s his ‘walking into a haunted house’ look, and Shane leans down, takes his chin in his hand, and kisses Ryan hard enough to make them both shiver.

“Come on, come on,” Ryan says against Shane’s mouth. “I want it. I want you to fuck me.” He pushes Shane back, and starts pulling off his clothes. Shane sinks down onto the couch and watches Ryan kick off his shoes and socks, pulling off his t-shirt and pushing down his jeans. Ryan watches him as he steps out of the puddle of his jeans.

“Come here, baby,” Shane says, reaching for him and Ryan goes. He tugs at Shane’s flannel, his belt buckle; mouth hungry on Shane’s the whole while. Ryan bites at Shane’s lips, digs in with his fingers. Shane shifts Ryan over, until he’s on his knees, facing the back of the couch, fingers dug into the backrest. 

Ryan trembles while he waits. Shane looks his fill. The perfect line of Ryan’s spine, bracketed by the twin columns of his muscles, the way his ribs expand and contract with every breath. Shane licks his lips, sweeps a hand down from the nape of Ryan’s neck until he reaches the cleft of Ryan’s ass, and then draws away. Ryan shudders, hard. 

Shane pours lube onto his hand, slicking his fingers. He slides them across Ryan’s ass, slipping in between his cheeks, spreading them apart, taking his time. Ryan shifts, restless, while Shane gets the lay of the land. Shane leans in and presses a kiss to the top knob of Ryan’s spine. At the same time, he circles the pad of one finger across Ryan’s entrance, a gentle push. 

Ryan’s head drops forward onto the backrest of the couch. “Shane,” he says, low. “Come on.” 

Shane grins, and goes back to circling around where Ryan wants him. Ryan pushes back against his hand and soon enough, Shane lets his finger dip in. Ryan jerks like he’s been struck. Shane gentles him with a hand on his hip, watching Ryan breathe. 

“You good?” Shane asks, because as much as this is a hurry up and go situation, he still wants to make it as good as he can for Ryan.

Ryan whimpers, nodding his head frantically. “So good,” he says, and turns to look over his shoulder. 

Shane meets his gaze briefly and goes back to watching the way his finger disappears into Ryan, watching the way Ryan fucks back each time Shane pushes forward. 

“Daddy,” Ryan whispers, into the side of his arm. It’s like it’s been torn out of him. “Please.” 

Shane’s eyes widen a fraction and his hand slips against Ryan’s hip. “Oh, Ry,” he groans, and brings his free hand back to press against himself, just to take the edge off. “I’m gonna make you feel so good. You ready for another? Tell me, baby, I gotta hear you ask for it.” 

“Please,” Ryan whines, “I want another.” He shifts and Shane sees him reaching for himself. Shane allows Ryan a couple strokes, while he slips a second finger into Ryan. Shane needs two more hands, he decides, because he wants to fuck Ryan and hold onto him and pull him off and push him down into the couch, all at the same time.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” Shane asks, mildly. Ryan stills. 

“I just–I just need a little,” Ryan says, and Shane can hear the frustration in his voice. He pulls his hand away from his dick though, skimming it up towards his chest, to tweak his nipples. 

“Ryan,” Shane says, stopping the delicious slide of his fingers. “That counts too.” 

Ryan whines but obediently moves his hands away. It makes the breath catch in Shane’s chest. Shane keeps the rhythm of his hand slow and gentle, nothing more than a tease. Soon enough, Ryan’s gripping the couch again, gasping out a litany of, “Daddy, fuck, _please_.”

“Can you take three, baby?” Shane asks, slicking more lube onto his hand. “Tell Daddy how good it feels,” he says. At Ryan’s nod, he slides all three fingers in. Ryan moans, clutching at the back of the couch. Shane knows Ryan’s fighting not to reach down, not to grab a hold of himself. He takes pity on Ryan and reaches around himself, giving Ryan the tight circle of his fist for a couple of thrusts. 

“Fuck,” Ryan says through gritted teeth. Shane watches as a flush spills across Ryan’s shoulders, watches as the colour bleeds across Ryan’s skin, and feels an answering heat bleeding through his own lungs. He’s so focused on the feeling of the tight grab of Ryan’s body and the slick sound of his hand inside Ryan that he almost misses what Ryan says next. 

“Will you spank me?” 

The question makes everything go white hot in Shane’s brain. He feels like he has to do a hard reboot before he can speak. “Do you deserve it?”

“I’ve been so good,” Ryan pleads, nodding his head. “Please, Daddy.” 

It’s hard for Shane to resist Ryan like this, desperate and wanting. He draws his free hand back and smacks Ryan on the ass, hard enough to make his palm sting. Ryan jumps at the touch and hisses. Shane waits. 

“Again,” Ryan pants, pushing back against Shane’s hand. 

“Patience, baby,” Shane says. Making Ryan wait will be sweeter. “You’ll get more when I decide you can have it.” 

Shane takes the opportunity to curl his fingers inside Ryan. Ryan grunts, his whole body quaking. “Shane, God, please. I’m not gonna last.” 

“You can do it, baby,” Shane says, smoothing his hand over Ryan’s hip, before he smacks him again. The sound is loud in the semi-darkness of the office. The smack makes Ryan yelp, but it turns into a soft little groan as Ryan rocks back onto Shane’s hand again. “Hold out just a little more.” 

“I’m ready, I’m ready,” Ryan pants. “Fuck me, please.” 

No matter how sweetly Ryan begs, Shane wants to draw this out. He knows that the tight clutch of Ryan’s body will ruin him, and if this is the chance he has, he wants to make the most of it. He’s almost out of patience himself though, so he pulls his hand out of Ryan, making him whimper from the loss, and starts to strip. 

As he takes off his clothes, he looks at Ryan. Ryan looks devastatingly gorgeous, his ass and his thighs catching the light where the lube has left his skin wet. Ryan looks back at him, just in time to watch Shane take himself in hand, watch him stroke himself just enough to ease the immediate ache. 

“Shane,” Ryan whispers, “please.” Ryan reaches his hand out for Shane. 

Shane steadies himself; steps forward and brings his hands up to Ryan’s hips again as Ryan turns back towards the couch, both hands on the backrest. “Tell me you want it,” Shane says, and lines up, rubbing himself against Ryan’s entrance. 

Ryan arches his back and tilts his hips. “Daddy,” he grits out. 

Shane shudders and pushes in. It’s a long, slow slide. They both moan. 

As soon as Shane’s seated within him, Ryan reaches back, grabbing Shane around the back of his neck, pulling them together, keeping them connected in this moment. Ryan breathes and shifts, adjusting to the feeling of Shane inside him. Every movement makes a thrill of pleasure ride up all of Shane’s nerves. Shane slides his hands over Ryan’s stomach, his hips, his thighs, ignoring where he knows Ryan wants to be touched most. 

“How’s it feel, baby?” Shane asks, leaning down to smear a kiss across Ryan’s shoulder. He sucks a bruise into the skin he can reach. 

“Fuck, Shane, you’re so _deep_.” Ryan pushes back against Shane. “I’m okay,” he says, breathless, “I promise.” 

Shane pulls back, enjoying the sweet drag of Ryan against him and then pushes forward again. Ryan’s spine bows as he arches so he can take all of Shane on the way back in. “You’re so good for me, baby,” Shane tells him. “So fucking good.” 

Ryan flushes under the praise. “God, Shane, _yes_ ,” he moans, voice catching and breaking.

Shane snaps his hips forward, earning a long groan from Ryan. Shane shoves Ryan ahead on the couch so he can plant his knees against the edge of the seat and leans over Ryan, drawing him up and back. Soon, Ryan is pressed all the way along Shane’s front. Shane’s hand is splayed across his chest. The change in angle makes Ryan writhe against Shane, breath coming in desperate pants. Shane’s hand slides up, and Ryan’s head tips back. Shane pauses, his hand resting over Ryan’s collarbones in a silent question. 

“Yeah.” Ryan nods. “Yes. Do it.” 

Shane draws his hand up, settling his thumb and fingers under Ryan’s jaw. He can hear how Ryan’s breath changes as he closes his hand around Ryan’s neck. Shane wraps his other arm around Ryan’s stomach, fucking up with a ruthless rhythm. Ryan clenches around him and Shane sucks in a harsh breath, cursing. He loosens his grip on Ryan’s throat and Ryan gasps for air, but he’s still asking for more. 

“Again,” Ryan pleads, voice so raw that Shane feels it vibrating in his bones. “Again.” 

Shane tightens his hand again, feeling the way Ryan goes taut, the way his breath catches. Shane holds him there, knowing he’s riding that brilliant, flawless edge. He can feel Ryan shaking against him. It’s so fucking good. Shane’s not sure how he ever thought he’d be able to go on without having Ryan like this. Ryan’s beautiful, all flushed and gasping, and it’s almost enough to send Shane over the edge himself. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Shane says, and Ryan whines. Shane loosens his grip enough for Ryan to catch a breath. 

“Wanna come,” Ryan says, when he can get the words out. Shane’s still fucking into him, quick and deep. 

As much as they’ve already defiled the couch in their office, Shane knows he can’t just let Ryan come over the backrest; he doesn’t need to deal with that kind of aftermath. He pulls out, despite Ryan’s surprised little noise. It makes him want so badly to slide right back in.

“On your back,” Shane says, tugging at Ryan before Ryan even has a chance to move. For just a breath of a moment, Ryan looks up at him; heavy-lidded eyes, flush spilling down his chest, cock so hard he’s leaking all over himself the second he lays back. 

Shane settles himself between Ryan’s shaking thighs, holding himself with one arm as he uses his other hand to tease at Ryan’s entrance with his cock, listening to the delicious little whine he elicits from Ryan. Ryan’s already reaching with greedy hands for Shane’s shoulders, his neck, his hair, pulling Shane down to kiss him as soon as Shane slides home; Ryan takes him so well it punches a groan from deep in his chest.

Shane finds an unrelenting rhythm, one that makes the smack of their skin echo off the office walls. Ryan’s fingertips dig into his flesh where they grip his shoulder, the other settled deep into the spaces between his ribs. Ryan curls his legs tight around his waist, enough so Shane can feel the heels of Ryan’s feet dig into the bottom of his spine.

“Think you’ve been good enough, baby? Think I should let you come now?” Shane says against Ryan’s mouth, and Ryan’s panting, a small string of desperate _yes_ es. Shane presses a chaste kiss to Ryan’s lips before he says, “Gotta ask for it. Tell me what you want.” 

“Please, Shane, I want to come.” Ryan’s voice is a harsh whisper, a near beg, looking up at Shane with wide eyes and without a trace of performance. It makes Shane’s breath shatter in his chest.

Shane reaches between their overheated bodies to get a hand around Ryan, stroking him quick as he thrusts his hips hard against Ryan’s. 

“Lemme see you, Ryan, come on,” Shane says, his voice gone to gravel and smoke. He’s desperate himself now, every cell straining for release. There’s no pretense between them anymore. Shane closes his eyes for a moment, re-centering. He opens them again to look down at Ryan, holding Ryan’s gaze. “Come for me.”

The words barely leave Shane’s mouth before Ryan’s eyes shut tight and he bares his throat, arching underneath Shane. He comes with a shout of Shane’s name, shuddering and shaking below him. 

The control Shane’s been holding in the tight grip of his fist for weeks unravels and breaks at the sight. Before Ryan’s finished spilling over his fist, Shane’s thrusting in deep; deep enough that Ryan groans low, near silent, as Shane comes inside him, the wet noise of it as filthy as it is satisfying. Shane buries a noise that might be Ryan’s name into the meat of his shoulder, teeth and fingers digging in as he holds on while the orgasm crashes through him.

Shane goes boneless on top of Ryan, and he can feel more than hear Ryan’s breathy laughter. Ryan’s arms come around Shane’s shoulders to keep him close. They’re a mess of sweat and come and lube, and Shane desperately wants a shower, but he also wants to lay here, just a moment longer–in this timeless space where his mind is clear of everything except the feeling of Ryan underneath him, the gentle way Ryan cards his fingers through Shane’s hair.

“You’re heavy, get off,” Ryan says, after they catch their breath, shoving gently at Shane’s shoulder. 

“So much for the afterglow,” Shane grumbles, but he goes, kneeling between Ryan’s legs. He’s got Ryan’s come on his stomach, and Ryan’s looking up at Shane with a neck riddled with bruises, flushed red from where Shane’s hand had been tight around it. Ryan looks wrecked, utterly ravished, and Shane feels a thrill in his stomach, molten heat settling low despite the satiated feeling in his bones. 

“I’m hungry,” Ryan says, sitting up, grimacing as he looks down at himself. “And we need to clean up.” 

“Do you wanna get something on the way home?” Shane asks. “Or, you know. We could go back to mine and order something.” 

Ryan grins, bright and wide and tired, but it hits Shane right in the chest. “Yeah, we can order something.” 

“Come on, get dressed,” Shane says, fingers brushing gently against Ryan’s thigh. 

“Hang on, _Jesus_. I’m pretty sure you fucked the feeling out of my legs.”

Shane laughs, shaking his head as he stands from the couch, crossing the room on his own pair of fawn legs towards his desk to grab Kleenex, bringing the box back to Ryan so they can clean themselves up, somewhat at least. Admittedly, Ryan’s much more of a mess than he is, what with the no condoms–which while hot in the moment, they really should have taken the extra step–but Shane feels his mind slow like molasses as he remembers the tight heat of Ryan around him, how much _better_ it had been. 

“Gross,” Ryan mutters, tossing used tissues into a bin, as Shane pulls on his underwear and jeans, and Ryan gathers up his clothing. 

They dress in silence. When they’re mostly decent, Ryan reaches out to curl his fingers around Shane’s wrist. Shane smiles as he tugs Ryan in against his chest, leaning down to give Ryan a kiss, one that melts and deepens, fusing them together. Ryan’s fingers comb through his hair, but before the kiss can push them to undress again, Shane pulls back. 

“Let’s get out of here so we can eat,” Shane says, and Ryan grins at him. 

“You gonna fuck me again?” he asks. Ryan looks up through his lashes, and Shane feels his stomach flip, as Ryan whispers, “ _Daddy_?”

Shane groans and Ryan laughs, pulling out of Shane’s grasp to collect his things. 

For all they did that night, it shouldn’t surprise him, but it does when Ryan slips his fingers between Shane’s as they leave the office. 

That answers that, he supposes. 

**Author's Note:**

> All our love to all of you. :* 
> 
> [Jess](http://sequencefairy.tumblr.com) & [Yesi](http://uneventfulhouses.tumblr.com)


End file.
